


Fakedly Engaged

by KendraPendragon



Series: My tumblr writing [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Snogging, fake engagement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-15 18:45:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16069061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KendraPendragon/pseuds/KendraPendragon
Summary: All for a case. Even an egagement. The unexpected consequence: Sherlock has to make an appearance at the Hoopers' Christman Dinner.A mistle toe will be his downfall.





	Fakedly Engaged

What was she thinking?

Getting fake engaged to the man you love…

 What on earth made her agree to this?

 Of course, she knew. His heart melting  _Molly-I-need-you-please-you-count-I-have-no-one-else-you’re-my-only-hope-_ look had done the trick, as always.

She really, really had to come up with some kind of shield against this look or she would always end up being miserable because of this impossible man.

 

Right now, she was miserable because her mother was giving her a hard time on the phone for not telling her about the fake engagement.

“Really Molly, how could you? Do you have any idea what an idiot I made of myself when Betty congratulated me and I had no idea why?”

“Mum…”

“I even called her off for mocking me. She had to show me the bloody newspaper before I believed it, not thinking my own daughter would not tell me when she gets engaged to the most famous man in London!”

Molly sighed in defeat and let her mother ramble on. She listened to the story of her difficult birth and how bravely her mother refused all medication to not harm baby Molly in silence, only uttering ‘sorry’ multiple times when it seemed appropriate.

Inwardly, she was choking Sherlock Holmes for putting in the announcement without telling her. She kind of relished in this fantasy, seeing Sherlock’s face in a nice shade of purple, until something ringed in her head.

“…I need to have a serious word with your fiancé when you get here on Christmas.”

Molly jumped up from her couch.

“What?!”

“You heard me. And you’re not getting out of this. You WILL bring him. Understood?!”

“Mum, I don’t know if Sherlock can leave London…”

“Molly Ann Hooper! You will bring your fiancé to the Christmas dinner so we get properly introduced to the man. I won’t accept a no. Did I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Molly closed her eyes. She couldn’t be disobedient if her mother used this authoritative voice. It was a left-over of her childhood.

“Good. We will expect you at six. Be punctual.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Goodbye.”

“Bye, Mum.”

Her mother hung up and Molly threw the phone across the room onto her couch, swearing very colorfully. Next thing she did was to grab her mobile and call Sherlock.

 

**~oOo~**

 

“Stop gnawing at your hair”, Sherlock ordered her and Molly pulled the streak of hair out of her mouth.

“Gosh, this is going to be horrible. So bloody horrible.”

Molly wrapped the arms around herself and started rocking. Sherlock glanced at her and rolled his eyes, steering the rental car through the traffic.

“I offered to feign a sickness”, Sherlock said, but Molly snorted.

“Then she would have come to London. And believe me, you wouldn’t want that.”

“What’s so horrible about your mother?”

“She’s very demanding. I can never do anything right.”

“Sounds pretty normal to me.”

Molly smirked.

“Oh, you have no idea.”

Sherlock sighed, getting bored with Molly’s anxiety attacks. He ignored her mumbling for the rest of the drive and let her insult him.

He didn’t see a problem with convincing her family that they were engaged. Friendly banter, a little affection, a smile here and there, eating too much food and they were out there again. A reasonable price for keeping up his cover.

The satnav told him that they had reached their destination and Sherlock parked the car on the other side of the road, inspecting Molly’s parental home.

It was bigger than he had thought, but he had been right about the neat front garden and the several lawn gnomes.

“Okay, don’t panic. This is going to be all right. Just a nice evening at home, pretending to be engaged. You can do that.”

“Of course I can”, Sherlock said.

“I wasn’t talking to you”, Molly replied and climbed out of the car.

Sherlock smirked and got out, as well. He had never seen Molly so stressed out. It was strangely amusing.

They crossed the street and Molly took a last deep breath before she rang the doorbell…

  
…which was ripped open a second later, with Molly’s fingertip still pressed on the button.

  
Molly swallowed hard at the look of her mother.

Sherlock’s jaw clenched. Maybe he had to turn up the charm more than he had intended.

“You actually dare to show up here”, Molly’s mother declared, one hand on her hip, the other on the door handle.

“You have invited me”, Sherlock replied, blinking.

“Yes, otherwise I maybe never got to the know the man who intends to marry my daughter. Most probably I even would have missed the wedding!”

“Mum”, Molly begged but was being ignored.

“What do you have to say in your defense, Mr. Holmes?”

Her look was like ice and Sherlock straightened. He could ask her why she hadn’t told her daughter that she visited a secret swinger club in the neighborhood, but something told him that this wouldn’t be the best way to go.

John had specifically instructed him to  _charm_ , not to  _harm_  tonight.

So with an inward sigh, he put on his hurt puppy look.

“Nothing logical I’m afraid, Mrs. Barrow. It have been nothing but selfish reasons. As you most probably know from the tabloids, I have never been in a serious relationship before. So this is all new and thrilling for me and I have to admit that I wanted to have Molly all to myself for a while. I sincerely hope you can forgive me. If not, maybe you can be bribed?”

He pulled out the bottle he had been carrying in the pockets of his Belstaff and smiled boyishly. It was a superb wine. Molly had told him that her mother appreciated a good bottle of wine and he had actually remembered that, to his own surprise.

Mrs. Barrow eyed the bottle for a second, then she eyed him and a second later she huffed and took the bottle out of his hand.

“Come in”, she said with a nod and closed the door when they had entered.

  
Sherlock, remembering John’s instruction to be a gentleman, took Molly’s coat and hung it on the rack next to his. As he looked down at his pathologist, he saw the blush on her cheeks.

“What?” he asked in a low voice. Her mother had already gone into the kitchen.

“Nothing. I am just impressed how good you are at this.”

“Let’s get this over with”, was Sherlock’s only reply and he took her hand in his. Molly looked down at their entangled fingers and for a second they just stood there.

“Are you okay?” Sherlock asked.

Since his return, he paid a lot more attention to her body language and, well, everything else about her, really.

“Yes, sure. A little nervous, maybe.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be there all the time.”

“Yeah. That’s exactly the problem”, Molly muttered under her breath as she led them into the big living room , where they were greeted by ten other people.

They all ogled the handsome and smartly dressed man by her side and Molly felt a little sick when she introduced him.

“Everyone, this is Sherlock Holmes, my…fiancé.”

A general ‘Hello’ echoed through the room and one by one they came up to them to shake hands, first of all Molly’s stepfather.

“Mr. Holmes. Good to finally meet you. My wife has been…well, let’s say ‘a little stressed’ since she knows about your engagement to our daughter.”

Paul Barrow was tall with short blonde hair, a little beer belly and a warm smile. He wore a cheerful red Christmas jumper with a white reindeer on it and Sherlock couldn’t help but be reminded of John’s hideous jumpers.

“Mr. Barrow, my pleasure.”

“This is my sister Angela and my goddaughter, Melissa.”

Paul introduced them all to him and Sherlock had to shake more hands than he had in a month.

“Hello kitten”, Paul finally greeted Molly and kissed his cheek.

“Hi Paul. Merry Christmas. I brought presents”, Molly replied and handed him the huge bag full of gifts she had neatly wrapped. Paul kissed her again and put the presents under the big pompous tree in the corner of the living room.

 

As predicted, it was a festive evening. The amount of food was ridiculous but tasty and Sherlock ate a good deal, wanting to get on Erika’s good side. Molly ate surprisingly little. Sherlock knew that she normally could eat a lot but it only needed one comment of her mother and Molly put the fork down:

“You should start eating less, honey. No one likes a fat bride.”

Sherlock was almost shocked at her mother’s words, for he knew exactly how much it hurt Molly.

“Molly’s way too thin. A few more pounds look good on her”, he couldn’t help but exclaim and threw Mrs. Barrow a challenging look. 

“A man that tells you to eat. Gosh, you’re so lucky, Molly! Where did you find him?” Melissa jumped in to prevent further discussions about weight.

“In the morgue, actually. Had his head in an opened chest as I walked in.”

“Molly! We’re eating!”

Erika made a disgusted face and Sherlock smirked.

“You were quite shocked and threw me out. You had that lovely blush on your cheeks and your eyes were sparkling.”

Melissa and her best friend from school let out a dreamy sigh as Sherlock looked at Molly all sweet and in love. Molly smiled weakly and took a big gulp of the wine they had brought.

Time passed by and when dinner was finally over, the family settled on the three big brown leather couches to unwrap their gifts. Sherlock noticed, while all the other people were squealing and hugging and tearing wrapping paper apart, Molly smiled cheerfully. She obviously enjoyed it more to give than to receive a gift. That didn’t surprise him at all.

When the younger ones were playing with their toys and games, the adults leaned back onto the couch and relaxed, talking and drinking.

“Why don’t you get the whiskey and some tumblers from the kitchen, Molly?” her mother ‘asked’ after a while and Molly nodded and got up. Sherlock felt all eyes fixing on him and he quickly excused himself to help Molly.

As soon as he entered the kitchen, he whispered: “When can we leave?”

Molly checked her watch and sighed.

“If we don’t stay until midnight, Mum will be sulking for at least a month.”

“I don’t have a problem with that.”

“Sherlock.”

“What? I can’t understand why you let her talk to you like this. You have the highest level of education in your family and yet she treats you like you’re some kind of grave digger. And how you are constantly on her beck and call! She invites you into her home and yet  _you_  have to clean up the kitchen and get the whiskey…”

“Does that sound familiar to you?” she asked him, giving him a look.

  
Sherlock huffed.

  
“That is different! I’m not your mother! And I certainly don’t treat you like dirt.”

“No, you just comment on my bad figure while you’re deducing my way of wrapping a gift for someone special in front of all your friends.”

It was silent all of a sudden.

“I said I’m sorry”, Sherlock said weakly after a minute.

“And I forgave you. I’m sorry, I’m just stressed. Here, take the glasses into the living room.”

He looked at her for another second, seeing her tense shoulders and the little line between her brows. She looked up at him then, with a questioning look on her face, and Sherlock hurried out of the kitchen to bring the tray with the glasses into the next room. When he went back, Molly was already on her way, holding a bucket of ice cubes and the whiskey bottle. Sherlock held the door open for her and took the bucket out of her hand when Melissa squealed.

“Mistletoe! Mistletoe!”

  
Sherlock and Molly looked up at the same time.

Yup, a mistletoe. Hanging above their heads.

Molly inwardly cursed and blushed.

“Oh, aren’t we a little too old for that?” she asked, laughing and wanted to fully enter the living room when Sherlock’s fingers curled around her upper arm.

Her heart stuttered as she looked up at him, his eyes gone all soft suddenly. She swallowed hard as he took the bottle out of her hand and put it on the counter behind her, pressing her against the doorframe, their faces only inches apart.

Sherlock smiled knowingly when he heard Molly’s gasp as their upper bodies touched. He took his time placing the bucket on the counter, too, never letting go of her eyes, enjoying her stunned expression and the lovely pink on her cheeks.

Molly’s lip parted and she gasped when his slender fingers brushed her cheeks as they cupped her face.

“Sherlock…” she whispered, her body frozen in place, unable to move.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind”, he whispered back, his breath hitting her lips which she licked a second later.

  
He nudged her nose with his and Molly’s eyes fluttered shut, a sweet little sigh escaping her throat.

  
Sherlock’s eyes stayed open when he placed his lips on hers, only using a little pressure at first, exploring her thin lips with his full ones, tasting both bottom and upper lip.

  
They were delicious.

  
Molly smelled so nice, Sherlock thought as he finally shut his eyes to deepen the kiss, opening her lips with the tip of the tongue. The sound Molly made was as beautiful as the sound of his violin.

Their tongues touched and a jolt shot through Molly’s body, setting it on fire.

Her arms rose and snaked around Sherlock’s neck on their own behalf and her body melted against his as she pulled him down to feel even more of him.

Their heads lazily moved while they kissed, exploring each other’s mouths, caressing each other’s tongues.

The family that watched this display of affection with open mouths was completely forgotten.

Sherlock had wrapped his arms around her back and was nibbling at her bottom lip teasingly at the moment, being rewarded with Molly’s hands wandering into his hair, massaging his scalp with her strong fingertips.

A pleasant shiver ran down his spine and his tongue slipped into her mouth again to show her how very much he liked that, their noses bumping as he moved his head to the other side.

 

“Ahem!”

With one clearing of a throat, the magic spell between them was broken and Molly and Sherlock, both their faces flushing with color, parted hastily.

“Ah, young love. Reminds me of us, love”, Paul joked and pulled his wife into his arms, giving her a slobbery kiss on the cheek, causing Erika to shriek and push him away.

The teenage girls were sighing dreamily and openly envied Molly for her fiancé while Molly and Sherlock brought in the bucket of ice and the whiskey.

The flush on their cheeks stayed on for almost an hour.

 

**~oOo~**

 

“Thanks for coming with me tonight”, Molly said shyly as Sherlock parked the car in front of her building.

“I’ll bring you to the door.”

“Oh, okay.”

They got out of the car, crossed the pavement in three steps and climbed all five steps of the stairs to end up in front of her door. Molly got her keys out, letting the several keyring pendants slip through her fingers.

“Well, good…”

“I walk you to your flat”, Sherlock quickly interrupted her and unlocked the door with the key he had insisted to exchange when they had gotten into this whole fake engagement thing, arguing that if they were watched by his enemy, it would look weird if he had to ring the doorbell, being her fiancé and all.

Molly followed him up to the fourth floor and into her flat after Sherlock had unlocked that, too.

Toby, her cat, came running and she petted him before she took off her coat and hung it up the rack.

“Well, again, thank you for the evening. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“I should stay”, Sherlock announced a little too loud.

Molly blinked.

“Why?”

“It is custom to spend the night with one’s fiancée.”

“But you don’t have to. No one will get suspicious if you don’t, Sherlock.”

He was already shrugging off his coat and hung it on the rack next to hers. Ignoring her stare, he hung his scarf, too. Then he opened his dark blue suit jacket and pulled it off his shoulders, as well. Next came his shoes.

“What are you doing?”

“You always complain when I don’t take off the shoes.”

“Oh, yeah, right…”

Molly cleared her throat, looking away.

“Did you think I was undressing?”

She flinched and blushed.

“No, no, of course not.”

  
Sherlock only smirked as he followed her into the kitchen. While feeling his eyes on her, Molly put the kettle on and wanted to get some mugs out, but as she reached for them, his hand came into view and grabbed the mug instead.

The pathologist swallowed hard as Sherlock slowly lowered his hand, putting the mug on the counter, his body so close to hers that she could feel his warmth radiating from his body. Next thing she knew his breath hit her cheek as he bent down to her, his fingers curling around her hand.

“I never asked you if you like the ring. I picked it out myself.”

His lips brushed over her ear and his deep voice made her shiver so much she had to close her eyes for a moment.

“It’s…it’s beautiful…” she managed to coax.

She couldn’t tear her eyes off their hands, Sherlock’s fingers playing with the ring on her finger.

“It’s a little too big”, Sherlock commented and Molly felt his chest graze her back.

“I like it like that.”

“I know.”

Molly closed her eyes again. She was lost in his voice and his warmth and all she wanted to do was to lean back against him, have him wrap his arms around her and never let go.

  
The shrill cry of the kettle prevented her from doing so. She jumped and moved to the side, his fingers sliding off her hand, and she grabbed the kettle and poured some water into the mugs (Sherlock had grabbed another one and had put teabags in them in the meantime).

Smiling shyly at him, she took her mug and walked into the living room, sitting down on the couch.

Normally, Sherlock said in the chair opposite her. He had claimed that chair as his own years ago. Now, however, Molly was quite surprised that he settled down next to her, so close his thigh was pressed against hers.

Molly couldn’t help but furrow her brows and look at him. He smiled and let the teabag swirl around in the hot water.

“What are you doing?”

She just couldn’t help it. She had to ask. This was way too odd. He had behaved oddly ever since that whole engagement-scheme had started, if she thought about it. Little things like touching her more often than ever, grazing her knuckles as he passed her by or brushing a strand of hair out of her face while she was working or reading results to him in the lab. He always looked like he didn’t pay attention to it at all, but she certainly did.

“What do you mean?”

Molly only pointed at their thighs.

“What?”

She only stared at him with wide eyes. Sherlock smirked again.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“Eh, yes?”

“Was that a question or a reply? The sound of your voice indicates a question, but answering a question with a question makes no sense in this case.”

Molly groaned and leaned back.

“Fine.”

“What’s fine?”

“Just sit as close to me as you like, if it makes you happy.”

“I hear irony.”

Molly sighed.

“I just don’t understand why you’re touching me all the time.”

“You didn’t seem to mind two hours ago when you kissed me.”

“You kissed me!” Molly insisted, a blush creeping up her cheeks.

Sherlock put his arm on the backrest of the couch to get a better look at that lovely shade. Molly eyed him carefully.

“You kissed me back” he replied, a cocky smile playing around his lips.

“I was playing my role” Molly muttered, playing absentmindedly with her fake engagement ring.

Sherlock’s eyes were glued to her face and her heartbeat accelerated by the second. Her skin started tingling under his stare and she was getting more and more uncomfortable by the second until she burst.

  
“Please stop!”

  
Sherlock rose an eyebrow.

“What specifically?”

“All of this! Leaning over me, touching me, looking at me like…like…”

“Like I am about to kiss you again?”

“Yes!”

“Would that bother you?”

“Yes!”

“Why?”

  
Molly swallowed hard. He was too close. Her senses were full of him and it was so hard to think clearly.

“Sherlock, I agreed to this whole charade in order to help you with your case, but you must know…this is not easy for me…”

“Why not?” he asked with a whisper, leaning in even more, his eyes fixed on hers, looking right into her soul.

“You know damn well why not”, Molly coaxed.

Gosh, she felt so bloody hot.

“Tell me.”

Her eyes widened and her heart did a little flip.

“What?”

“I want to hear you say it.”

“To say what?”

“Don’t play coy with me, Molly. You know. I know. Everyone we know knows.”

Molly silently begged the couch to swallow her.

It didn’t.

_  
Bloody couch!_

  
“If you know, why do you want me to say it?” Molly said defensively and pushed him away to get up, but in the last moment (it was actually perfectly timed), Sherlock grasped Molly’s wrist and pulled her back; onto his lap and into his arms.

Molly froze as his arms wrapped around him and he buried his nose in her neck.

  
“I want you to say it”, he whispered into her ear, his lips brushing over it, “so it gives me courage to reply that I feel the same. Exactly the same, with an intensity I haven’t thought possible.”

  
Countless of shivers ran up and down Molly’s spine as he whispered those words to her, those wonderful, wonderful words.

“Please don’t make fun of me”, she whispered back, her voice breaking. If it was all a cruel joke…

But Sherlock pulled her closer, his arms wrapped around her tighter and he rested his cheek against hers.

“I’m not. Molly…I want you to be mine. I want this engagement to be real. When the case is solved, I want you to be my wife and move in with me. I want to go to bed with you. And I want you there in the morning when I wake up.”

Tears were running free now and an embarrassing loud sob escaped her lips.

“Sherlock…” she coaxed and turned around to face him, her hands running through his hair.

His blue eyes sparkling with longing, he kissed her again. He put her down on the coach with him half on top of her, sneaking his arms around her once more.

The kiss turned desperate within a minute and they started tearing at each other’s clothes, giggling like teenagers.

Molly’s heart was swelling with love and her body was burning with desire for this horribly wonderful man and she let her tongue swirl around his as her hand reached into his trousers…

  
**‘THUD’**

  
Molly shrieked out of her slumber by knocking her head against the window. She blinked furiously as the dream slipped out of her grass, the heat of Sherlock’s kiss fading rapidly.

“Are you hurt?” the familiar baritone sounded next to her, causing her to flinch.

“You were moaning”, he said and she closed her eyes as embarrassment washed over her.

“No, no, I’m fine…” she hastily replied and cleared her throat, throwing him a glance or two.

She had had several erotic dreams about Sherlock, but not with the object of her desires sitting right next to her in the car. Needless to say that this situation couldn’t be more uncomfortable.

“Did you have a bad dream?” Sherlock further enquired, his eyes not leaving the road.

“No.”

“A good one?”

Did he just smirk?

“Wasn’t it you who said no talking in the car?” she snapped back and kept her eyes fixed on the raindrops that were running down the window glass.

„Hm“, came his reply and for a while, it remained silent in the car.

Ten minutes later, Sherlock pulled the car to a stop. Even though Molly had been looking outside, she hadn’t seen anything, too caught up and rebuilding the fragments of that wonderful, surely never going to happen dream.

“Are we there already?” she asked in confusion, looking at her surroundings and recognizing that Sherlock had driven off the road and was currently parking in front of a forest.

“Sherlock, what is  _Unhnng_ …”

Molly had been interrupted by the consulting detective pressing his lips onto hers. His kiss was passionate and his hands were in her hair and Molly’s head was spinning so fast she feared she might faint.

And yet, she returned his kiss with all she had.

She heard her seat belt click and noticed how Sherlock freed her carefully before he pulled her onto his lap. It was quiet a maneuver with the limited space and all, but soon enough she was nicely settled in his lap with his arms wrapped around her and his tongue dancing with hers.

It was almost just like her dream, Molly realized and after a brief thrill came the horror. Gasping for air, she pushed Sherlock back into his seat.

“Wait, wait!”

“What?!” he said and his voice couldn’t sound more sulking even if he had tried.

“Is this real?”

“Oh, it very much is” he chuckled and started nibbling at her neck while his hand roamed up and down her thigh.

Molly bit her lip to stifle a moan as she felt his wet, hot tongue tease her neck.

“How can I be sure?” she asked, fighting for control.

The dream had felt just as real. How could she be sure she wasn’t sleeping now?

“I know!” she answered her own question and – with a little effort – pushed Sherlock back into his seat once more. He let out a frustrated growl.

“Wait a second”, she insisted, pushing at his chest for he refused to remain in his position.

“Molly”, he whined and his hand gripped her hip to pull her even closer.

“Sherlock!”

Her commanding voice made him growl once more and he fell back into his seat.

Then Molly pinched herself. Hard.

“Ouch!”  
  


She blinked. Shook her head. Blinked again.  
  


Nope.

  
She was still in the car. She was still sitting in Sherlock’s lap, still feeling his hot thighs and…something else poking against her butt.

“This is real. This is real! Ahaha!” she cried out happily and before Sherlock could comment on her maniac behaviour, her fingers slid into his full hair and he was pressed against her, his lips sealed by hers.

  
Some passionate snogging went on for the following hours…yeah, okay, not just snogging. But come one, we should give them a little privacy, shouldn’t we? After all that dancing around one another for years and especially these last days, they do good by making the rented car rocking. Let’s just say, when Sherlock and Molly arrived in Baker Street the next day, they couldn’t wipe their stupid grins of their faces as they announced they were getting married.

  
Of course Mrs. Hudson was confused because, well, they have been faked engaged for months now.

But no, said Sherlock, for real this time.

And after Mrs. Hudson understood that no, Sherlock wasn’t still pining over John and yes, he loved Molly very dearly, the elderly woman squealed in delight and hugged both of them while the two lovebirds were giving each other smoldering looks which turned into more snogging and heated passion as soon as they were alone.


End file.
